


Roles

by Debi_C



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, M/M, Roles, Self-Acceptance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 18:13:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11972916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Debi_C/pseuds/Debi_C
Summary: This fic has the possibility of placing our heroes within the realm of Sam's musings. Blue Jell-o was tortured.





	Roles

I sit here at the luncheon table watching my teammates interact. As I pick at my blue Jell-O I think of the roles that my friends have taken on in my life, this view I have of them. They are cool. Oh yeah, very cool. They pay no more attention than usual to each other. There is of course the Don't Ask, Don't Tell rule. It protects them in a sad, silly sort of way. It's kind of pathetic really. Other military members can't ask. They can only suspect and imagine their evil little hearts out. They don't really care you know. It's just prurient interest in SG1. The question of who's doing whom is only of passing concern. Who cares a flying leap about two grown-ups having or not having an illegal, immoral or fraternization type of relationship? It could affect our life, career or future if someone could prove something. But no one ever will, cause we're too good and too valuable to lose. The powers that be must protect their interests you know.

Now for those of us who are intimately involved, it does make a difference. It makes a difference because we can see the happiness. We can experience the joy in their lives as they interact with each other. We know that our friends are cared for and about in that very special way that is so important to the human race. We know the value of love in a cold heartless universe. It can make miracles happen. Miracles like life, death, ascension, rebirth, surviving torture, and the loss of yourself.

Well, there they go again. That sweet little nag of his, the affectionate touching of the other, and the warm bantering they do. It's all for show you know. At least it is for right now. It's their smokescreen so that the rest of the world keeps seeing them as the Pinky and the Brain of the SGC. It allows our facade images to remain intact...the dumb grunt and the odd intellectual, the alien terminator and the scientific genius.

I'm not sure what casts us in these our roles. Maybe the Colonel is right and we are an Oz four-pack after all. He is always quoting L. Frank Baum. But then who is who in this world of yellow brick roads that we travel down. The more obvious choices for us are not valid in my opinion. We're simply not that ... simple.

There's the obvious analogy of General Hammond as the Wizard. Just an ordinary man doing an impossible job with amazing balance and incredible flair. Then, there's my friend Doctor Janet Fraiser as Glenda the good witch, with her magic penlight wand and a bag of tricks big enough to intimidate the biggest, baddest combat veteran in the command. But it's my teammates that take the analogy to its ultimate end.

First, there's Daniel. He seems to be first in a lot of things so we'll follow the trend. Some insist upon seeing him as our resident straw man. You know the character, clumsy, loveable and 'cute'. Cute my Aunt Hanna! The man has rapier sharp wits, stubbornness to equal any Missouri mule and nerve enough to face down a god. Yes, Doctor Jackson is a long way from the innocent that his good looks and bearing might indicate to the uninformed. Remember that tigers appear to be cute striped kitty cats to the uninitiated. What? You don't think he's dangerous? Ha! I was dissuaded from that mistaken idea when I saw him blast a vat of goa'uld larva with my M-50. Think he can't stand the pressure? He's been known to go toe to toe with System Lords and come out on top. We're alive today because he baited Sokar into beating him down so he could reach a communicator. Won't go the distance? He went the hard mile for the unappreciative assholes on Kelowna and died for their sins of stupidity and pride. Won't stand his ground? Well, he stood his ground for Abydos and he lost his ass-er, ascension for his troubles. The wonderful thing is he'll do it for us without hesitation. Never you doubt it. I never will. Though he's not cowardly, I will unabashedly call him our lion.

The next role to be filled is also problematic. The first thought is that of Teal'c fulfilling the perennial favorite big guy. However, that immediately runs into the problem that he is neither a lion nor cowardly. There is his size to recommend him for the part but the man is so much more than just his intimidating appearance. Everyone assumes we Taur'i are the more valuable members of the team but talk about your erroneous ideas! He was, after all, the First Prime of a god. The man is a walking fount of information, and a veritable Robert E. Lee of strategy. Many a night, Daniel and I have sat in camp enthralled, listening to the Colonel and Teal'c discussing strategy and tactics. How Napoleon lost to Russia, how T. E. Lawrence crossed the Nefud, how Alexander the Great won Egypt, how Seti the First beat the Hittites. The strategic insights discussed were incredible. Daniel has the history, the Colonel has the skill, and I may have the theoretical knowledge but Teal'c has almost a century of hands on experience. He's a military genius in his own right. To me, he is an awe-inspiring vision of the brave woodsman, now hobbled by his environment. He's only biding his time for his goal of freedom for his people to be possible...so he can finally say, "Let my people go!"

There's the Colonel. Jack O'Neill often perversely paints himself as the comedic relief of the tale. He portrays himself as seemingly not very bright, a bit rusty and just come out of a woodlot. But that's really not him at all. Though he's not an intellectual, he is certainly much smarter than he would like people to believe. And, he's not nearly so innocent. I would cast him as our hero, the one who rode the tornado in. Oh, I admit he's no innocent. The Special Operations School of hard knocks has seen to that and he certainly isn't naive. He even managed to kill the Wicked Witch Hathor. But he still manages to hold on to a kind of quaint, gentile old-fashioned honor system. He truly does believe that the good guys should win in the end, that right makes might and happily ever after is assured if you follow the rules of the game. Just don't try to cheat the system or Toto, his faithful P-90, will bring down the wrath of his offended mid-western sensibilities. He is our American conscience, our innate nobility lost in a big bad universe and searching for the way home. Hail, Dorothy!

Then there's me, the Girl. The one who is sooo smart, the techno-head who's been cattily referred to as super Sam behind my back. Well, maybe and maybe not. If I am blessed with a higher than average IQ, it certainly doesn't hold up well in this august company. Being on SG-1 is similar to being partnered with Patton, Moses and Einstein. I do try hard, I admit. I've always been considered the golden girl; Jacob Carter would expect no less from me. When Mark put his foot down and entered the civilian business community I got the appointment to the Air Force Academy by default. I was expected to run faster, jump higher, think harder and leap over scientific equations with a single bound. When other girls were picking out prom dresses I was hip-deep in subatomic particles. But, I'm not complaining. Look where it's gotten me...I'm here with the best, the brightest and the bravest men in the world, hell, the galaxy. Maybe I never can tell anyone that I'm not studying long-range radar telemetry from the bottom of Cheyenne Mountain, but it does have its good points. I love my guys, I love my job and I love my life. It's different, certainly not what I had expected to be doing eight years ago. But I wouldn't trade my long lost prom dress for my Scarecrow clothes for anything.

### The End ###


End file.
